Air

Running in a rut,

sitting on a fence.

Watch a movie,

write a poem,

say a prayer,

fall asleep,

dream of air.

Air to breathe among tension between households.

Air to breathe when merely surviving isn't fulfilling.

Air to breath, rather than fill my mind

when there's nothing to talk about...air head.

Maybe every time a thought appeared,

my parents fought aloud,

causing my brain to shut off,

not wanting to talk to anyone.

So, I keep my thoughts to myself

while their anger fills up the silent room,

and when I walk through,

I split the air in two.